WR PATRIOT, Inc.

Game Master ZenFox42

This is the gameplay thread. Feel free to Dot.

Dotting in.

The heavy camo-painted vehicle pulls into an empty space and sits silently for a few moments. Anyone with a bit of curiosity and a sharp eye would notice the driver shaking pills into his palm from a prescription bottle, then throwing his head back to swallow them dry.

Once he climbs out he's seen to be dressed incongruously in desert fatigues and a ball cap. His demeanor says military; his haircut and facial hair hint otherwise. He hitches up his pants -- reflexively touching the holstered gun on his belt as if checking that it's still there -- and then pushes his sunglasses back in place as he looks at the building before him.

"Alright," he says as he strides off, "let's do this."

AKA: "Dot."

dotting

A nondescript, gray Toyota Corolla that's got some years on it pulls into the parking lot, and a short, slightly overweight young man gets out.

The pockets of his jeans jacket and pants bulge here and there, and the apparently permanent scowl on his face seems to reinforce the air of "don't mess with me" about him.

Without hesitation, he walks inside.

Apologies, will get a character page going as soon as my work schedule lets me. His name (as far as anyone knows) will be John Smith.

You can hear Arlo approach long before you see him. The un-mistakable, deep rumbling of a modified Harley Davidson Engine sets the glass in the windows to shaking, just before the Pearl White bike saunters down the street.

The athletic man aboard pulls to a stop in a well lit...semi-legal spot, lowers the jiffy stand, and steps off the bike almost before it quits rolling. Dressed in tight 501's, a cut off sleeve denim shirt, biker boots, and a bandanna he quickly locks the bike up, takes the shoulder bag from it's bungee and heads towards the meeting place.

AKA dot

O'Callaghan pulls up, his car non-descript, his long coat covering most of his clothing, though heavy boots can be seen beneath.

He seems at once at ease, yet... aware.

He walks quietly towards the building...

Oh, I see how it is...

A beat-up old car comes around the corner--it looks like a DeLorean that's been kept together and running over the years by a mechanic who doesn't know when to quit. It comes into a parking spot... and backs out, and pulls in, and repeats the process several times as the driver tries to get it perfectly straight in the middle of the space. Finally, the engine sputters out and the door opens.

Out steps a middle-aged man of eastern European heritage, his hair prematurely graying although he looks quite robust. He wears a simple outfit--black work boots, loose-fitting black cargo pants, and a worn-looking military style jacket. Those nearby here him mutter in a foreign tongue: "Bucată nenorocit de gunoi..." He shuts the door and opens the trunk to retrieve a duffel bag, which he slings over his shoulder. He then shuts the trunk and heads to the entrance of the building.

PATRIOT, Inc.

Six individuals arrive at a nondescript parking garage in Baltimore, Maryland around 2:00PM on a Thursday.

You have seen the true face of the world, and the terrors it hides. But unlike most, you have chosen to face the darkness head on. And until this day, you had faced it alone.

Each of you at some point or another had heard the rumors about a secret organization that handled the monsters they themselves never got around to. Maybe you believed in these rumors, maybe you didn’t. But you certainly didn’t have any proof one way or another.

And what the hell kind of name was PATRIOT, anyway?

But then there was a phone call with a recorded message, or an email, or perhaps even a letter. One way or another each of you had been contacted and told to come here at this hour.

“Are you ready to make a real difference?” the message said.

Perhaps you think this is a trap. Perhaps you think this is a waste of time. Or maybe you’re excited. But whatever your motivations or misgivings, you’re here.

Alright, kids. Go ahead and introduce yourselves to each other. Let’s get in a little RP before I bring in the plot.

Tapping his thigh, the gray-haired man looks at each of the others. "Uh, hi. You are here for job, yes? Got phone call, offered position to fight bad guys and get money?" His accent is clearly from Eastern Europe, and his English isn't perfect, but the point gets across. He sounds... eager.

Nate walks over to Gavril and offers his hand. "Nate McCulligan. You were called? I got a registered letter. Apparently someone heard about the challenges in Nevada, Mexico and Argentina, and felt I was the right man for a similar job. I didn't get the impression it was about 'bad guys,' though."

"And I'm not here for the money, son. Money'll buy more bullets and bigger guns, but it's not the reason for doing anything important." He temporarily pulls the toothpick out of his mouth and points it at Gavril. "Remember that."

He eyes the foreigner thoughtfully as he replaces the toothpick. "So tell me about these 'bad guys.' Who called you and what did they say, exactly?"

The young (19-ish) man snorts and says, "Phooey! We're all here for the money, one way or the other. Me, I ain't got no email OR regular address, but someone found me and put a note in my hands. And it didn't say nothin' about 'bad guys'. You can get into real trouble reading more into things than what they actually say."

"Come now, I suggest we are all here because we try to hold back the darkness, while I will continue the fight regardless, having both money and support is welcome. I am Father O'Callaghan." his voice is rich and friendly.

Arlo is the last to walk up and join the others.

"Well, well, well". "Isn't this a band of outcasts". "Names Arlo...Arlo Franco". "And unless I miss my guess we're all here to meet someone else to fill in the blanks". "So I say we just be patient and wait". "Unless one of you guys set up this meeting"?

Arlo takes the time to casually walk around the meeting place looking for surveillance or ambush locations, all the time keeping the other eye on the new arrivals.

1d8 ⇒ 6 Investigation
1d6 ⇒ 3 WD

"And I think we all know why we're here". "We've seen some things".

Arlo easily finds security cameras placed around the parking lot, as well as a door with a finger print scanner. There are other vehicles there as well.

It seems very - mundane.

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"Eh, bad guys is not right word. Monsters, more like, I guess." The man shrugs. "I say bad guys, like bad guy in boxing match or wrestling. Is not necessarily bad guy, typical bad guy. But is not good guy." He shrugs again. "And money is good thing. Monsters bad, I fight anyway, but I come here so I fight for money. Is better than fight for free."

Sylvia moves out of her car once people start gathering up around the parking lot, her gun holstered to her side. She walks towards the others with a big grin on her face. Hey Ya'll, names Sylvia Ramirez, nice ta meet ya'll. Her southern accent shining through. Guess we all got contacted somehow, and this gig sounds like it goin' ta be a real fun one ta boot. At least that how mine read. She laughs heartily.

"Well said, Father. Always good to meet a man of the cloth with his head screwed on straight."

It's obvious Nate wants to say something in response to the others' remarks -- especially being labeled an "outcast" -- but he manages to keep those thoughts to himself.

He turns as the latest arrival approaches, eyeing her up and down. Maybe the job they want done isn't as intense as I'd presumed. Then his eyes fall on the woman's sidearm. Well, she's carrying. Not my first choice, but Glocks are solid weapons. His eyes travel back up to her face again. Underestimating an opponent is bad... but underestimating a compatriot isn't good either. Maybe she can actually handle a gun.

Not wanting to appear overly familiar, he only grabs the bill of his cap and ducks his head in her direction as an ersatz "tip of the hat" and says, "Welcome. Nate McCulligan."

Eventually, a nondescript white van arrives in the parking lot. And from it out walks an attractive, smartly dressed brunette woman. She is currently speaking on a hands-free cellphone device in her ear. She sees all of you, smiles radiantly and motions you over while finishing her call and changing her white sneakers into a pair of work heels.

“Right, but did you douse it in sea water before you buried it?”

She hops awkwardly on one foot trying to adjust the heel as she listens to the other side.

”Chris, bear in mind, when I say sea water I mean actual water from the ocean. Not just tap water that you added sea salt to. – Uh-huh – Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. Yeah, you’re going to have to dig that thing up again before it regenerates.”

There’s another pause.

“Wait. Say that again. How deep? – Wow. Yeah, well you better get yourselves a couple pickaxes then. Talk to you later.”

She finally addresses you as she hangs up.

“Thank God, you’re all here!” She then opens the back of the van and a sea of silver and baby pink balloons nearly comes streaming out. The woman hurriedly catches a few that nearly stray to the ceiling. You then notice that many of the balloons read, “It’s a girl.”

“Alright, don’t be shy now. Grab a bunch. I need to hurry up and get these to Accounting on the double.”

Nate blinks. "Excuse me Miss, but: What?"

"I know, right! This is like a Monty Python skit amount of balloons. It's safe to say the guys at Party City went a bit overboard. Now, admittedly, I may possibly be partially at fault here, since I sort of threatened them with bodily harm if they messed up my order -- like last time. But I did apologize, and I WAY over-tipped, so I'm sure that should grant me a reprieve."

Without really waiting for your responses, she begins distributing balloons to all of you and smiles at each of you as she does. Finally she pulls out a pink cake, closes the van door, and begins walking briskly toward the door with the fingerprint scanner.

"Alright, now follow me. Save the questions for later, because I can't begin to tell you how pressed for time I am right now, what with the Baby Shower and the Level 2 Apocalypse in Des Moines."

She sighed mock-dramatically.

"These budget cuts are killing me. I'm supposed to have a legion of interns at my beck and call for this sort of thing."

Sylvia looks around for a few moments, then eyes the brunette. "Well...I'll be damned, didn't know we were going to a baby shower, damn would've brought somethin' for the lil' tyke." She looks toward the group for a moment. "Guess we're going to a party boys, let's help ta lady out. I don't wanna be late." She grins before turning away from the group.

She walks in time with the brunette balloons in hand, "And what be your name honey? Can I at least ask that much?" Sylvia asks the brunette.

O'Callaghan takes some of the balloons and follows the lady into the office.
"Not quite the tasks the missive led us to believe we'd be undertaking. But I can't complain."

John raises his hand up as high as he can, as if ready to let the balloons go. "Lady, I'm not moving one inch until you at least tell me if your are or are not a part of the organization - and I use that term loosely now - that gave me a card asking me if I wanted to make a difference. And more importantly, am I getting paid for this."

Assuming she will answer in the affirmative (Ray you can fill in the color if you want) :

The scowl on his face deepens, which you may not have thought possible. "This is stupid!" he proclaims loudly. But he walks forward towards the door.

Nate stands there, staring at the balloon lines that had been shoved into his hand. "Context, woman!" he barks in annoyance to her back as she strides off. "You must be a real joy at tactical briefings!" he continues sourly, voice rising in volume as the distance between them increases.

He looks over at John as they begin walking, trailing the others. "I hope the woman with the Glock isn't as ditzy as this one."

He glances at the van's license plate and quickly scans the vehicle before returning his gaze to the group ahead and the mass of balloons being floated towards the door. "Keen situational assessment, kid; this is stupid. But between that phone conversation and her casually mentioning an apocalypse, I'd say she's part of this 'PATRIOT' group."

"Management, probably," he adds with a sigh.

Notice: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 Checking the state and whether it's a government or custom plate as well as looking for a personalized plate frame. Also scanning for bumper stickers and checking the condition of the van -- e.g. is it freshly washed and waxed or showing mud, dirt, scratches/dents, hints that it's a "working" vehicle, hot off a job, etc.

Being able to think on his feet, and adapt to the situation is probably the main reason Arlo was still alive. He simply shrugs, grabs a double handful of balloons and joins the fray.

Firstly, Nate, as a Wild Card you always get to roll a separate d6 as a Wild Die. And you select the highest result. Secondly, dice here explode on the highest value.

So you would add another d6 to your Notice roll and add that to the 6 from your first roll. Repeat if you roll another 6. And then apart from that roll a separate d6 as your wild.

"The name's Maggie," she says with another toothpaste commercial smile. She then turns back and addresses you from over her shoulder as she marches toward the scanner.

"I am the one who called you in. Yes, there's money. I am a treasure during tactical briefings. And I will absolutely murder you if you drop those ballons."

She scans her hand, inputs a code - all while balancing a pink birthday cake in the other hand - and the door opens. She smiles sweetly at all of you, as she holds the door open with her shoulder.

"Welcome to PATRIOT, Inc."

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Gavril blinks rapidly a few times but simply takes the balloons and follows the woman. He shrugs at the others' comments, but every time he opens his mouth someone else speaks. He waits until they reach the door and the brunette answers their questions and scans her thumb. Finally, after looking around to see that no one else is talking, he coughs and speaks.

"Why upset, baby is good thing. Party is nice, we do nice thing for someone, get paid, is why here, no? Cake now, bad guys later. Stop grumbling, jeez. You are like, eh, small child who does not get right present on birthday. Just like what you have." That said, he shakes his head and turns to follow Maggie.

Also just realized that I didn't mention earlier: Gavril is wearing an eyepatch over one eye.

RW: Yeah, I remember John mentioning some of that. You'll have to keep an eye on me and nudge me in the right direction for a while until I get the hang of things.

Notice: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Boom: 1d6 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

Can't see the point in rolling wild if the regular roll exceeds five, am I missing something there?

Nate cringes when Maggie mentions "dropping" helium balloons, and after stepping through the door he turns to Gavril. "If you haven't been in many life-threatening situations, you may not understand the importance of clear communication. Misunderstandings can get you -- or everyone on your team -- killed. That's the reason behind phonetic alphabets, formal three-way communication, and so on."

"I'm not upset, but I am concerned. And I think I'm completely justified in that, when our first interaction with PATRIOT is as opaque as trying to converse with a bureaucrat..."

Nate trails off and his face trends towards white. His head snaps around to look at Maggie. "Lady, please tell me PATRIOT isn't some sort of government agency!"

"Alright Maggie, nice ta mee'cha, names Sylvia. But ya'll probably know that anyway, so what kinda things we be huntin' for this 'ere agency?" Sylvia asks Maggie after the doors open, carrying the balloons in one hand while the other is free. " 'Cuz let me tell ya what fer now, if I ain't huntin' somethin' that can hunt back then I wasted mah time." She continue following Maggie, trying to strike up a conversation, even though they were told to not ask questions yet.

Sylvia turns to Nate for a moment "Don't worry about it sugah, I got more than enough to handle any kind of animal or creature that comes mah way. I'll stake mah pride as a huntress on that!" She laughs a bit, then turns to Maggie again. "But seriously, what the hell we be huntin' and killin'?"

Can't see the point in rolling wild if the regular roll exceeds five, am I missing something there?

Mostly it's just a good practice to get into. Also there is a legitimate possibility that you Ace your Wild die as well.

Past the door you see a security checkpoint with a guard, sitting behind a desk with monitors. He notices that you're packing but doesn't bat an eyelash.

He also doesn't take his eyes off of you. His gaze moves from one to the next, assessing you.

"Well, we basically live off of government contracts, but otherwise we're private sector, Mr. McCulligan. Can I call you Nate?" Maggie said.

She doesn't wait for a reply before smiling at the security guard. "Hey, Stu. You miss me?"

"With my every breath." He stood up and hit the "up" button on one of the elevators. The man is over 6 feet tall, built like a Mack Truck, and moves like he could at any moment explode into action. This is not your typical Rent-a-cop.

Maggie then turns and listens to Sylvia for a moment as the elevator descends.

"Hmm. I guess you guys are really impatient today. Alright I guess I'll have to give you a literal 'elevator pitch'. We can all squeeze in, but bear in mind it's going to get a bit -- well, ridiculous with all the balloons. Think of it as character building."

The elevator dings, opens and you all step in after a few moments of wrangling the balloons.

I'm trying to make Maggie seems like a force of nature. How am I doing so far?

O'Callaghan's content to listen to the others ask questions, unlike some of the others he is a patient man.

Ah... so the wild could explode (or explode "as well") and wind up being an even higher total. Plus as you said, building habits. Makes sense, thanks.

"Nate's fine," he says, scanning the security guard as intently as Stu had assessed the group.

Alright, for the sake of practice. In particular, curious about his weaponry if he's armed (Nate would notice stuff like that), whether he appears to be wearing a flak jacket, carries himself as if ex-military, and so on. He'll also scan the security monitors if he finds himself in a position to see the displays. (And was his comment made sarcastically, or...?)

Notice: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Wild: 1d6 ⇒ 6 Well.
Boom: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Oh... and I'm reserving judgement on Maggie for now. :op

Nate, I hadn't considered the Wild d6 as exploding more than the other die, either. Nate and I have never encountered SW before, it's going to take some getting used to!

Don't know about the wisdom of disagreeing with the guy who can kill your PC :) but she seems too...friendly/cheerful, I guess...so far to be a force of nature. But the "I'll kill you if you let go of the balloons" was a nice touch.

Waiting to hear the pitch. If anyone makes a Notice, you might hear John's teeth grinding...

Gavril waits patiently in the corner of the elevator, trying to keep his bulk pressed against the walls, silent like O'Callaghan.

Arlo tries to catch the code that Maggie enters as they approach the elevator.

1d4 ⇒ 3 Notice (total 8) Success with a raise.
1d6 ⇒ 6 WD
1d6 ⇒ 2 XD

He watches the guard as well, sizing him up, and finding him fit.

Humming to himself as the elevator rises he asks the obvious question.

"So who's having a baby"?

Nate notices that Stu is carrying a Beretta on a gun belt, along with a telescoping club and a wooden stake. He also noticed the tell-tale signs of an undercover vest. Stu seemed affectionate with Maggie but highly skeptical of the rest of you.

Arlo was able to note the 8 digit password that Maggie used. Not going to make one up on the spot, but you do know it now.

"Brenda from accounting. This is her second girl," Maggie answered Arlo.

"Okay, PATRIOT -- where do I start? Well it stands for Paranormal Anti-terrorism Research Initiative and Occult Think tank. Go ahead and laugh, we all do. PATRIOT was originally two companies that merged into 1, so that's part of the reason for the mouthful. The other part is that our principal founder Nathan Templar was former Army and those guys just can't resist an acronym."

"Now you might recognize Nathan Templar because back during World War II, he basically won all the medals. That was really a cover. He was part of a government group that countered Adolf's supernatural silliness."

For the new players, you can make skill checks untrained by rolling a d4 -2. You still get your Wild die, but also at a -2. The modifier applies only once in case you ace your die. 4 or better is a success.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Know:History: 1d6 ⇒ 3
Wild Dice: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Obviously not a war historian

"Yeah, look Maggie, I like being all patriotic and what-not but that ain't answerin' mah original question, what I be huntin'? " Sylvia has a stern look in her eyes.

"Had a baby," Nate corrects Arlo. "The balloons say 'It's a girl', not 'It's going to be a girl'."

Kn:Hostory (untrained): 1d4 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
Wild (untrained): 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (5) - 2 = 3

Gavril looks at McCulligan. "Is baby shower. Usually before baby is born. Is girl because they know is girl, is girl now in womb. Will also be girl when born." He shrugs again and nods at the information from Maggie and Sylvia's response. "I agree, I come for to help people and stop bad guys, not for history lesson. Never good at history. I live in now, am man of action, da?"

I'm also realizing how ridiculous this group probably looks. The image of a large Romanian man, a former boxer, with an eyepatch, in a flak jacket, on an elevator, holding baby shower balloons... That's amusing. Good job, WR.

EDIT: Rolling for fun.
Knowledge (history): 1d4 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
Yeah, no, Gavril doesn't do education.

Nate considers Gavril's words while looking up at the balloons and almost glaring at them. Then he briefly cuts his eyes towards Maggie before fixing his gaze on the elevator's floor indicator. "Imprecision gets people killed," he grouses quietly to no one in particular.

1d4 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0 Knowledge: History
1d6 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4 WD Total of 5
1d6 ⇒ 1 XD

Arlo scratches his head a minute, then smiles suitably impressed. "Oh yeah". "I read about him in a JC History class". "Pretty righteous dude, thought until recently I didn't believe but about half of that stuff". "He's not still around is he"? "I'd like to meet him, and shake his hand...Great American".

Gavril looks at Nate, and a sad gleam passes over his eyes for a moment. "Da, da. It does."

"I could care less about babies, and old guys from World War II, and stupid acronyms that don't SAY anything - what the HELL are we doing here, lady?!?!"

Maggie starts to giggle, she stifles it a little only for it come out as a snort.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But you guys are perfect. Exactly what I've been looking for."

"We hunt monsters, Sylvia. Vampires, werewolves, zombies -- if someone wrote erotic Young Adult fiction about it, we hunt it down and make sure it doesn't hurt anyone or inspire anymore crappy movies."

"And, no, I'm sad to say, Mr. Franco -- Arlo? -- But Mr. Templar passed on about ten years ago. Even legends die."

The elevator finally opens up and you can see a large open floor office space filled with dozens of people. Many of them seem to be talking on phones, while others are typing away at computer screens. More than a few are moving very quickly from one place to the other, with a determined stride and resolute looks on their faces.

Before you can really take it in. A woman in her mid-forties shows up.

"Did you fall into a crack of reality, Maggie? What took you so long. Ben's been extending Brenda's meeting to give you time to show up. He must be ready to chew his own arm off. Brenda's a sweetheart but you know how she gets when she's actually allowed to talk about the budget."

A couple of folks stand up to relieve you of your party supplies.

"Sorry. The guys at Party City were a little overzealous."

"Pfft! Gee, I wonder why. Uh -- who is this?" the woman says gesturing to all of you.

"Oh, these are --"

Maggie introduces you one-by-one.

"Oh," the woman says. "This is your special project."

"I'm sensing a lack of faith in my team, Carol."

Carol quickly tries to back-peddle but Maggie won't hear of it.

"No, no. Let the record show that in my time of need. You didn't support me."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Uh-huh. You let me work my mojo and you'll see that these guys are going to be the greatest team PATRIOT has ever seen."

There's a long pause and then Carol says, skeptically, "Okay, sweetie. Whatever you say." And then she walks off to prepare the Baby Shower.

"Non-believer." she mumbles. "Okay, new friends, right this way." And she points you toward a glass door.

Sylvia's eyes widen for a moment after hearing what she will be hunting out there. "Va-vampires? Werewolves? Actual flippin'-..." She is cut off from finishing her sentence once the elevator dings and the doors open to reveal the large open-floor office space. "Well I'll be a monkey's aunt....this place is humoung-...." Again interrupted this time by Carol making her entrance, Sylvia eyes her up and down for a moment then listens to the conversation between Maggie and Carol.

Once Carol leaves and Maggie asks her "new friends" to come with her. "Let's see how far this 'ere rabbit hole goes."Sylvia couldn't help but grin.

"Rabbit hole? Is usually not very deep. I help deal with rabbits once, we block all ends but one, then use hose..." Gavril pauses at the looks others are probably giving him and stops. "Ah, is, eh, metaphor."

With that he turns to Maggie. "Eh, Miss, what is this about 'special project' and 'team'? We are experiment, new team come to help stop monsters?"

Other than a polite "Ma'am" to Carol when Maggie introduces him, Nate is silent for the remainder of the elevator ride and the discussion that follows. His eyes roam over the office, noting details and categorizing people.

O'Callaghan smiles warmly and nods as he's introduced to Carol, but is otherwise content to see how the situation unfolds.